The One That Got Away

by Lucy Dawson

  ‘You weren’t listening to me!’

  ‘Because I told you it was fine! What’s the matter with you?’

  I hesitated, having a massive moment of self-doubt now that the light was on and he was looking down at me completely confused … ‘You said it didn’t matter, and it does.’

  ‘I meant it didn’t matter because it was all OK.’

  ‘It’s just, you were really quick putting it on!’

  ‘Well it’s not my first time, is it?’ He exhaled heavily, propping his body weight up on his hands. ‘That’s successfully killed the mood.’ He eased back, lay down beside me and stared up at the ceiling.

  ‘Why did you want the light off? We never do that.’ I said, my mind still racing.

  ‘Yes we do!’ he said, baffled. ‘And so what if …’ Then his expression changed. ‘Hang on. What are you saying?’

  There was a very ugly silence.

  ‘I didn’t see you put it on,’ I said in a small voice. ‘I couldn’t feel it. I …’

  ‘What, exactly, are you saying?’ he said ominously.

  ‘It’s just … I saw you with that pin … and now suddenly I can’t feel—’

  ‘I knew it! Fucking hell!’ He sat up sharply. ‘Without meaning to be crude, don’t you think you would have noticed afterwards that I hadn’t been wearing one?’

  ‘But it would have been too late by then, wouldn’t it?’ The words were out there before I could stop them.

  He said nothing, just gave me an utterly disgusted look as he quickly threw the bed covers back, got up and left the room. I reached for my T-shirt as I heard him banging around in the bathroom, and then he came back in, towel round his waist.

  ‘Stalling is one thing,’ he said angrily, ‘but this? Accusing me of stuff I would never do? All I wanted – heaven forbid – was to have sex with you.’

  ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry.’ Panicking slightly, I tried to calm him down. ‘But Dan, you can’t blame me for having doubts when—’

  ‘Doubts?’ he said incredulously. ‘You didn’t just say that! I’m your husband!’

  I paused.

  ‘I can’t believe you think I’d actually do something like that!’ He began to raise his voice.

  ‘Dan! Shhh!’ I hissed. ‘They’ll hear us next door.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he shouted, then he kicked the edge of the wardrobe in frustration and his towel fell off. All the moment needed was a comedy sound effect. He immediately bent to pick it up and ordinarily, if we’d been arguing about anything else, it would have diffused everything. I would have laughed, he’d have grinned sheepishly, and the argument would have ended. Instead I heard the unmistakable sound of a wail through our rented ricepaper walls. He’d woken up next-door’s toddler.

  ‘Don’t. Say. Anything,’ Dan pointed a finger at me warningly. He stomped round the bed and began to pull on his tracksuit bottoms.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I said as he marched out.

  ‘I’m sleeping on the sofa bed.’

  ‘Oh don’t be such a baby!’ I called after him, and then closed my eyes in regret at my crass but totally unplanned choice of words.

  ‘Is that supposed to be funny?’ He came straight back in. ‘You think this is all a joke?’

  ‘No, of course not. I just made a mistake. I meant …’

  ‘Well try this one; my wife – who I love more than anything – doesn’t seem to want a baby with me.’ His voice cracked. ‘Hysterical isn’t it?’

  ‘You’re absolutely right I don’t – not like this,’ my voice was suddenly thick with unshed tears. The crying became louder next door and there was a warning thump on the wall.

  ‘What is it you want me to do, Molly?’ he raised his voice. ‘Magic you younger? I don’t understand. Time is running out! I don’t want to be one of those sad OAP couples everyone calls selfish bastards, having IVF alongside our first hip replacements. You need to get a grip and grow up!’

  He made for the door again, but then came back ‘—and I am fucking angry about what you’ve just accused me of,’ he said furiously. ‘We only use the bloody things full stop because you can’t take the pill, thanks to your migraines! In fact, you know what? This whole thing is about you, not me. I can’t believe you think I would do something so underhand; I love you! And now you’re actually saying you don’t want kids at all?’

  ‘I’m saying—’

  He didn’t let me finish. ‘At least that’s more honest than the “next year” bullshit.’

  ‘It’s not bullshit!’ I exclaimed.

  He ignored me. ‘I don’t want to put it off any longer, Molly, I want to start trying for children NOW, OK?’ he shouted. ‘Not next month, not next year, NOW.’

  I faltered as I looked at him. I could see he was completely serious, he simply wasn’t prepared to wait any longer. For once I didn’t go charging in, I’d already said enough; I was frightened of doing the wrong thing.

  But he actually didn’t wait for me to say anything.

  ‘You know, I can’t even look at you right now,’ he shook his head. ‘That you could think I’d actually do something like that …’ he turned in disgust and banged out of the room.

  Immediately I wanted to call out after him: ‘Dan, wait. I’m sorry – it’s because I’m scared!’

  Because I’d realised I was. Scared of how it would change my life, what it would mean, what it would be like to actually have a baby. What if I was no good at being a mum? What if something happened to me or Dan? And what if – well, being a mum was crap? And lonely. Or changed things between Dan and me? Maybe they were things everyone worried about, it was totally normal, but what if it wasn’t? What if I didn’t want them after all? All that sitting there with Joss and Bec on Saturday smugly saying ‘Yah yah, we know ourselves SO well now we’re in our thirties …’ but perhaps I didn’t. Even worse, was this a part of me I had chosen to ignore?

  Or were Dan and Anita right: I just needed to grow up. Maybe that was all it was, I was just being a selfish wuss. After all, everyone else seemed to manage it, Karen and Maria by and large enjoyed it. I tried to think back over the last year and a half, tried to remember all of the conversations we’d had about having children … perhaps Dan’s comments about stalling were fair, but then surely the days of having to start trying for children the second you married were gone, weren’t they?

  I tried to take some deep breaths, attempted to stay calm, but it felt like being stuck at one end of a fraying rope bridge; the ones that swing perilously over dark rocky gorges, or rivers of angry lava. Dan on the other side of the canyon shouting at me to hurry up, hand held out – and me not knowing if it was safest to run for it, to pick my way across … or stay put and make him come to me. One of us was going to have to cross to the other side – that much I did know. There was to be no meeting in the middle on this one.

  I considered going downstairs to find him, saying sorry for my irrational outburst. I even got to the top of the stairs and listened tentatively – but the house was already silent. Perhaps he was already asleep? It was late and he’d be even more annoyed if I woke him up.

  I decided I’d apologise in the morning.

  But of course that didn’t happen.

  Chapter Seven

  I change gear and glance at the clock. Reaching Windsor on time for the start of the conference is not looking likely. The traffic has been crap. And so much spray everywhere – I hate driving when it’s like this.

  It had felt like I’d been asleep five minutes when Dan snapped the big light on this morning. I’d turned over to find him standing in front of the wardrobe in his towel post-shower, selecting a shirt. He’d rifled through the rack, grabbed one and stomped back out of the room.

  He’d wanted to make the point that he was still angry, although sleeping on the sofa bed all night had kind of done that already. No one in their right mind would opt for it unless they had to, it’s got a hump in the middle that makes it feel like you’re sleeping on the ba
ck of a camel.

  Then when I’d appeared downstairs twenty minutes later, dressed for work myself, his wallet, keys and phone were already on the side and he was rinsing his cereal bowl.

  ‘Do you want a lift to the station?’ I’d offered, trying to be helpful.

  ‘No thank you.’ He’d whisked his suit jacket off the back of one of the kitchen stools, pulled it on, picked up his bits and pieces and then strode out towards the sitting room. I’d followed him.

  ‘You know I’m going away today and I won’t be home tonight?’ I had reminded him tentatively.

  ‘Yup.’ He began to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs for his overcoat.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Dan, about last night …’

  ‘I haven’t got time to talk to you about it now,’ he said shortly, his back to me. ‘I’m late, I’m tired and my back is screwed. I barely slept a wink last night.’

  He wasn’t going to make it easy for me. I sighed.

  ‘What?’ He re-emerged, looked at me confrontationally, pulled his coat on, then walked over to the front door. ‘I really haven’t got time. Thanks, though, for saying sorry.’ He yanked it open. ‘Oh that’s right, you didn’t, did you?’ And then he’d banged out.

  I change gear again defensively. I mean OK, I made a mistake, I get that. I really shouldn’t have said what I did but equally this isn’t just about him, and what he wants. What about me? There are two of us in this relationship; surely we have to make this next step together, or not at all. And as for everyone else sticking their oar in – I’ve not even had chance to stop and think about how I feel about this. It’s like having someone else slam a foot down on the accelerator; everything has sped up completely out of our control.

  Still – it’s not helpful thinking like that, getting uptight again. On the positive side – and there is always an upside – I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve properly argued; which is pretty good going for four years I think, never mind when you chuck a house move and organising a wedding into the pot. We will sort this, I know we will—

  —Which is when I hear my phone start to ring in my bag. Pulling it out, I glance at the screen briefly – it’s him. My heart softens. ‘Hi!’ I say quickly, ‘Hang on – just let me hook the phone up to the hands-free.’ I fiddle around for a moment. ‘Sorry about that—’ I begin, but before I can explain I was going to call him earlier he cuts across me tersely.

  ‘What time is the food shop arriving tonight, please? I forgot to ask you.’ There is no discernable hint of apology in his voice for slamming out earlier. If anything he sounds crosser than before.

  Oh no. I forgot to order the food.

  There’s a long silence.

  ‘You did do it, didn’t you?’ he says suspiciously. ‘Remember I asked you on Monday? …’

  ‘I can’t do everything!’ I exclaim. ‘I’d just had a migraine!’

  ‘So there’s nothing to eat, again. And you’ve got the car? I said I could do it!’

  ‘Dan – It’s just a food shop! I’m trying to drive!’

  ‘Fine.’ He snaps. ‘I don’t want to talk to you if you’re going to be like this anyway.’ And then he hangs up.

  I gasp and stare at the phone furiously, the only sound is the windscreen wipers bashing from side to side. Oh, he didn’t just do that. The ONE THING he knows is guaranteed to send me into a fury in under three seconds. He has obviously thought better of it because the phone begins to ring again almost immediately.

  I answer straight away. ‘Don’t you ever hang up on me again!’

  ‘Um, okkkaaaay. I know it’s been a while, and although that does sound like us’ – there’s a laugh – ‘tell me you haven’t really been holding on to that all this time?’

  I nearly swerve off the road as I realise who the voice belongs to.

  ‘Molls? Are you still there? It’s me, Leo.’

  Chapter Eight

  I can’t think what to say. His voice sounds exactly the same. Slightly clipped and amused.

  ‘I thought I’d give you a ring instead of us messaging back and forth,’ he speaks easily, as if it hasn’t been years since we last spoke. ‘It occurred to me that you probably hadn’t changed your number.’

  ‘I’m surprised you still remember it,’ I say truthfully, although it sounds like I’m fishing.

  He laughs. ‘Oh I know it off by heart.’ He repeats it fluidly. ‘See?’

  There’s a pause. I’m not sure what to say to that either.

  ‘So, who hung up on you?’ he says. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask?’

  ‘Probably best not.’

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ he says simply.

  It’s then that I give myself a mental shake and realise what a bizarre conversation we are already having. Only Leo … the normal social rules don’t tend to bother him.

  ‘Not really, thank you,’ I say lightly.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he says, still cheerful. ‘I was only asking to be polite, I don’t actually care. Is now a good time, by the way? You sound like you’re on your way to somewhere?’

  ‘I’m driving to a sales conference in Windsor.’

  ‘That sounds fun …’

  ‘No it doesn’t,’ I can’t help but allow a smile.

  ‘Oh I don’t know,’ he says easily. ‘It’s hard to think what more anyone could possibly want from life than a conference in Windsor. So are you still working for – um –’

  ‘MediComma,’ I finish for him. ‘’Fraid so.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ he says. ‘A good job these days is something to be proud of. But why Windsor, may I ask?’

  ‘No idea, I expect they just got a good deal on the hotel.’ I speed up to overtake the car in front, distractedly looking in my mirrors. ‘Is that still your area of expertise?’

  ‘What, lounging around in hotels?’ he replies archly. ‘Thanks very much.’

  ‘No!’ I correct him quickly. ‘Corporate events.’

  ‘Oh right. Yeah, it is. Which luxury travel lodge have they dumped you in then?’

  I tell him and he gives a sharp intake of breath. ‘That’s bad luck.’

  ‘Really?’ I say in dismay as I pull back into the middle lane. ‘Is it a hole?’

  ‘No, I’m kidding – it’s fine. It’s got a—’

  ‘Can you hang on a moment, Leo?’ I cut across him, noticing that the traffic is slowing down very fast in front of me and I need to concentrate for a moment.

  ‘OK, sorry about that,’ I say as we come to a complete stop and I drop down into first. But there’s silence. ‘Leo? Hello? Are you still there? Leo?’

  ‘Just waiting until you’re ready,’ he says smoothly.

  I wrinkle my nose at the phone. I’d completely forgotten about that, his hating people interrupting him.

  But then maybe he’s actually being polite, because he cheerily starts up again: ‘So tell me. What’s your news? How about the lovely Bec and Joss, they OK?’

  The car in front pulls away sharply, creating a large gap, even though the traffic is still moving slowly – someone is clearly in a hurry. I begin to drift after them as the phone reception goes a bit dodgy. When I glance over at the handset I notice the hands-free wire is wiggling loose.

  ‘Although Joss’d hate to be called that, especially by me,’ Leo says dryly. ‘Which is completely fair, of course.’

  I push the wire back in. ‘Well, in her defence, she—’ I look back up. ‘SHIT!’

  The BMW in front has stopped completely, yet I am still moving towards it. I hit the brakes but the ground is so wet that I simply slide. The BM’s boot looms too large for me to do anything to prevent the surprisingly loud thud that results seconds later. My head jolts back on to the headrest. ‘Oh fuck!’ I gasp, fumbling for my hazard lights.

  ‘Molly?’ Leo says sharply. ‘What’s happened? Are you—’

  The BMW’s hazards flash on and I see the driver’s door open …

  ‘I’ve just hit a car,’ I say
in shock and then hang up as a very angry looking young woman starts to walk towards me.

  She shouts some pretty choice things, and a few more once we are on the hard shoulder – other cars slow down to pass us, gleefully taking in the entertainment – and is far nastier than she needs to be. I know that the law will be on her side anyway, and am trying to explain that I’m the one with the crumpled bumper and smashed indicator, but she isn’t having any of it. I end up shouting back at her, at which she gives me a disdainful look and says patronisingly, ‘OK you’re, like, clearly really hormonal right now. Just take my details and sort it out.’

  I don’t even have the chance to think of a devastating put-down as she flicks her hair at me and turns around on the spot before climbing back into her completely unscathed car and roaring off.

  I get back into mine and just sit there for a minute in disbelief, which is when the phone rings again with a number I don’t recognise. I pick up automatically. ‘Molly Greene speaking – how can I help you?’ My voice doesn’t sound quite right even to me.

  ‘Molly? It’s me. What the hell just happened? Are you OK?’ I can hear confusion and concern in Leo’s voice.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I breathe. ‘Just a stupid small bump.’ But I wobble at the end.

  ‘You don’t sound OK,’ he says doubtfully.

  I don’t know if it’s just hitting the car, my row with Dan and the weirdness of talking to him, or shock, or frustration at the stupid girl shouting at me – but whatever it is, I burst into tears.

  ‘Molly?’ Leo is incredulous. ‘Are you crying?’

  ‘I’m so sorry—’ I feel completely stupid. ‘Leo, I should go.’ I hang up quickly.

  What a truly rubbish – and deeply surreal – morning this is turning out to be. I stare at the phone. He’s going to think I’ve gone completely mad. I message him out of the blue and then hang up on him when he calls me. I shudder with embarrassment and then, so I don’t have to dwell on it, hit one of the numbers I have on speed dial. A male voice answers with a terse ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, it’s me.’ I take a deep breath, this really is one of my worst Wednesdays ever. ‘I’ve just had a bit of an accident …’